


Canon in D

by PisceanVirtue



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Anger, Angst, Betrayal, Comfort/Angst, Drinking, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, Jealousy, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-05-21 23:51:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14925381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PisceanVirtue/pseuds/PisceanVirtue
Summary: The five times Tessa and Scott were mistaken for a married couple, and the one time they weren't.





	1. Gothenburg, 2008

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently, I have a thing for multitasking when it comes to writing. My brain would not let me continue with Then Came You until I'd written at least the first chapter of this fic, so I'm posting with the hopes that I'll be able to get back to that ASAP.
> 
> Special thanks to Becca for coming up with this idea for a 5+1 fic and for allowing me to run with it!
> 
> The title is Pachelbel's Canon, a popular wedding song and a beautiful piece of music.

Tessa is five vodka shots down and isn’t showing any sign of letting up.

They’re in Gothenburg, and came second at Worlds. She deserves this, she argues to herself as she throws back another shot while standing at the bar. They’re right on track to win at worlds next year, and the Olympics the next. It’s what they’ve worked for, over half their lives, and while she thrives on the pressure of competition, she owes herself one night off. Her entire life is planned out for the next year, down to the minute, and she has no idea when she’ll next get the opportunity to just _let go_ for one night. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and turns around to search the room for Scott.

Her head spins at the fast movement before her eyes land on him on the dance floor, because _of course_ he’d be dancing when it’s the one thing Tessa thinks she could go without for at least a couple of days. Sure it’s her passion, but there’s a limit to the amount of time she can stand in front of the barre or repeat a routine to death. Talk about beating a dead horse.

She staggers across the room, holding on to the backs of the chairs dotted around the room to steady herself and avoid a potential injury as she balances on her too-high heels. She’ll be damned if a pair of overpriced heels cause her to twist an ankle and throw their Olympic hopes into doubt. Her peripheral vision is shoddy at best, and she has what can only be described as tunnel vision as she makes her way to Scott. The music playing registers faintly in her brain, but she is unable to make the connection from the audio to the artist.

Her head feels full of cotton wool, and she’s suddenly right in front of him. How did she get there so fast?

“You feelin’ okay, T? You don’t look too good.” He’s stopped dancing to make his way off the dance floor, and rests his hand on her shoulder.

She takes a curious look at the way his fingers curl around the sharp, jutting angles of her joint. Her eyes trace his arm back to his face, eyebrows raised in the way she loves, and bursts out laughing.

“Scott…” she cackles. “I’m so fucked,” she lowers her voice to a whisper, as though the sway of her body and the way she is clinging on to his arm isn’t giving away the fact that she’s completely wasted. 

The music changes, and she finally recognises the song.

“Holy shit, Scott. Michael Jackson!” 

Scott’s face splits open into the goofiest grin, and he gently takes her hand and pulls her back onto the dancefloor. The crowd is relatively thin, and they are able to find a spot near the DJ’s booth.

If Tessa were sober, she’d be _appalled_ at her attempt at dancing. But she’s not. So she throws her arms around without a care in the world, and sways her hips in a rhythm she hopes resembles that of the song. She takes Scott’s hand and he twirls her around, her hair narrowly missing hitting him in the eye. She twirls and twirls, her head thrown back and her mouth hanging open in a silent laugh.

Scott grins at how utterly carefree Tessa is in the moment. Until she abruptly stops spinning and plasters her hand over her mouth.

Shit.

Tessa runs off the dancefloor as fast as possible in her inebriated state. Vaguely recognising the fact that she won’t be able to reach the toilets, she instead aims for the nearest receptacle. In this case, an unsuspecting potted plant. She doesn’t have time to consider whether it’s real or fake, and the damage her vomiting may cause to the relatively thin tree.

The acidic taste of bile and alcohol races up her throat as she empties the liquid contents of her stomach into the terracotta pot. She retches a few times until she’s sure she’s done, before standing back up and wiping her forehead, sweaty from dancing.

It is then that she realises that Scott’s right behind her, holding her hair back.

“All good?” He lets out a soft chuckle and releases his grip on her hair as she turns around to face him.

“Shut up.” She rolls her eyes and reaches for the napkin he’s holding out to her. She wipes her mouth and discards the tissue into the same potted plant. 

“I think it’s time you got some sleep, don’t you?” 

Tessa acquiesces, accepting that she’s probably past the point of enjoying her night any longer. The buzz of the alcohol has begun to wear off, and the thought of bed is the best thing she’s heard of in a long time. There’s something distinctly unpleasant about the aftertaste of bile on her tongue that she longs to get rid of.

Scott reaches for her hand and they begin walking out of the ballroom and into the lobby, when her knees buckle under her weight. The dull ache in her shins breaks through her alcohol-clouded brain, but all she can do is laugh.

“My legs hurt, Scott. Carry me?” She pouts and reaches out her arms like a petulant child.

“Always, T.” He scoops her up, one arm under her knees and another under her back.

He carries her with ease, her pale pink dress flowing around her legs as the light breeze passes through them. 

Tessa lets her head flop backwards as the motion of Scott’s footsteps sends a wave of nausea through her body.

They reach the elevators, and Scott has just set her down to stand by herself when a woman stands next to them in front of the metal doors. 

“Always marry the good guy, am I right?” The woman chuckles at the two of them, and the doors open in front of them.

They step inside, and Scott’s hand reaches down to the small of her back, steadying her against the rising motion of the elevator.

“We’re uh… not married. Not even a couple.” Scott’s voice rings out in the cramped quarters as he presses the button for the 10th floor.

“Oh, my apologies. You both look so familiar with one other!” She has a distinct European-sounding accent, and presses the button for the 7th floor herself.

“We’re ice dancers. Been together since we were really little. Like… babies.” Tessa slurs out and is immediately embarrassed by the slurred nature of her voice. “Holy shit, I’m sorry.” She clasps her hand over her mouth. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, I never swear. I’m just… really drunk right now.” She lets out a high pitched giggle and cringes internally.

She leans back on Scott’s chest and he braces his arms around her as though anchoring them to the ground. She shuts her eyes, blocking out everything outside the cage of Scott’s body.

The woman laughs, her ash-blonde hair bouncing on her shoulders as she does. Tessa looks at the woman and decides that she vaguely looks like her own mother, if her mother had brown eyes and plastic surgery, perhaps.

“We have all been there my darling. But not all of us are so lucky as to have a friend like yours to look after us.” Her eyebrows rise to the top of her forehead and Scott returns a shy smile.

Before Tessa knows it, the elevator doors have opened and the woman steps out.

“Have a nice night, she gestures, and the doors close once more. It is only when they’re alone again that Tessa breaks out into a fit of giggles that continue as they reach their floor and Scott guides her to her room.

She’s still giggling as Scott helps her out of her dress and into her ragged t-shirt and shorts and passes her a hotel-provided toothbrush laden with a spot of toothpaste.

“She thought we were married! I’m only 18, why would I get married at 18!”

Her mouth is full of toothpaste and water and she’s pretty sure that half of it has landed on Scott’s face where she’s been talking while brushing her teeth.

“I don’t know, T. Hurry up, let’s get you into bed.”

She rolls her eyes at his brushing the comment off, and spits into the sink. She takes a brief look in the mirror and makes a half-hearted effort to rub off the mascara that transferred under her eyes from her throwing up. She trudges back into the bedroom, trying and failing to turn off the bathroom light as she passes through the doorframe.

Scott finds her gym bag and retrieves a packet of painkillers and fetches a bottle of water from the minibar.

“You’re too good to me, Scott. You know I love you, right?” Tessa is slurring and struggling to keep her balance as she unfolds the covers of the bed before flopping in, with all the grace of a new-born foal.

“I know, Tess. Love you too.” He pulls the covers up over her, strokes her sweaty hair off her forehead and places a kiss in its place.

“See you tomorrow, okay?”

“See you tomorrow, Scotty.” 

He smiles at the childhood nickname she rarely uses anymore, turns to leave and turns the lights off behind him. The door shuts with a soft click.


	2. Somewhere over Canada, 2010

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa, Scott, and a plane ride from Detroit to Vancouver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> small trigger-warning for references to an eating disorder.
> 
> also this is way more angsty than intended, so - sorry! (tessa didn't make the angst any easier to write with her cute ig post but i digress)

_Ladies and gentlemen, we have switched off the seatbelt sign so you are now free to move around the cabin. Barring any turbulence, the signs should remain off until we begin our descent into Vancouver. We hope you enjoy the flight and thank you for flying with Air Canada._

Scott immediately unclips his seatbelt, the clicking sound all-too-familiar as a result of his extensive travel. He stretches his feet out in front of himself, grateful for Skate Canada for splurging on first-class seats, and reaches into the cupboard next to his seat to retrieve his noise-cancelling headphones. 

As he unwinds the cable, he glances across the aisle to see Tessa lazily thumbing through her battered copy of Wuthering Heights, her seat already in the lay-flat position. She has one hand holding the book open and is chewing the thumbnail on her other hand with steely determination.

“You okay, Tess?” He checks in before choosing to watch some generic action film he hadn’t had the free time to go and see in the movie theatre.

“All good,” she returns a polite smile and returns her gaze to the book resting on her lap. She drops the hand from her mouth and rolls her ankles in small circles absent-mindedly, her face grimacing as she does. 

Tessa’s injury had reared its ugly head once more. She had been initially reluctant to let anyone know, to let anyone think that the path to gold they were already so far down may come to an abrupt stop. She thought of all the sacrifices her and Scott’s families had made from such an early age whenever the pain in her shins became too intense that she could barely breathe. She thought of the thousands of dollars her parents had spent on costumes, flights and training costs as she vomited into the toilets at the rink. She swallowed it all down, ever the people-pleaser, determined not to disappoint.

But here she was, two weeks away from the most important skate of her and Scott’s lives, unable to walk for more than five minutes without needing a break like some geriatric woman.

Fate has a funny way of fucking things up, she muses. 

Scott puts his headphones in and reclines his chair before settling down to watch the film. 

He’s barely ten minutes in before he notices that Tessa has put her book away and is scrolling through the selection of films on the in-flight entertainment system. She chews the inside of her cheek as she peruses.

Scott pauses the film and removes his headphones.

“Can’t focus?” 

She doesn’t take her eyes off the screen in front of her to reply. “No. I currently have the attention span of a goldfish.” 

Her reply is clipped, and Scott debates pushing her but decides against it as he returns to his film. He watches Tessa out the corner of his eye as she swipes across the screen before deciding on a chick-flick. He observes as she puts her headphones in her ears and reclines into her seat, blocking out the world around her. She shuffles around in her seat, adjusting the blanket in an effort to make herself more comfortable, before shutting her eyes.

*

Tessa wakes up 15 minutes later, the film still playing on the screen, as the flight attendants make their rounds in the cabin to deliver the passengers main meals.

A petite blonde sets up the table in front of Tessa before setting her food down. A Marina-approved dish of a tiny chicken breast, broccoli and brown rice, no sauce, of course. Tessa sighs and rubs her hands across her face, pausing the film to eat her carefully controlled meal.

She’s three bites in when she glances across the aisle and notes that Scott, perfect, once-in-a-generation-talent Scott, is already halfway through his meal of steak and potatoes. _No low-calorie diet for him, then,_ Tessa internally mutters.

Her mind flashes back to all the times Marina made off-hand comments about her weight, comparing her to the other girls at the rink. Jibes about thick ankles, a trunk too big for Scott to lift, thighs that were more fat than muscle and wouldn’t get her to the same stroke speed as Scott. Joking about getting her on the scales every week, until Igor actually followed through with her idea and taking Tessa’s measurements became as routine as the drills they went through every practice. The tape measure haunted her every time she reached for a piece of food that wasn’t included in her strictly-regimented meal plan. Chastising herself for taking an extra bite or cutting her workout short. 

So she pushed herself. She stayed for hours longer than needed at the rink and gym, cut her food intake down to the point where she felt dizzy during practice, but she _loved_ it. Loved the feeling of praise, Marina complimenting her for losing a pound or two each week. Loved when she had to buy smaller sized clothing, knowing that she was finally in control. Loved it when friends and family asked if she’d lost weight because she knew that it was working. _She _was working.__

__Until her legs betrayed her._ _

__What was first thought to be shin splints turned out to be something more serious. Various doctor’s visits confirmed that had Tessa wanted to continue skating with Scott, surgery was her only viable option. She cried for half an hour after the doctor relayed the news to her, before scheduling the surgery for the week after her diagnosis. She’d get the surgery, get back to the rink, and get back on the path to the Olympics that she and Scott had seemed to be destined for ever since they were paired up at the tiny rink in Ilderton._ _

__In the end, her legs had betrayed her for all the sacrifices she’d made. Every calorie cut from her diet, every extra minute spent practising or on the treadmill didn’t matter in the end. There was nothing she could do about it._ _

__Her injury made things worse. On bed-rest in London, she survived on less than a thousand calories a day, her waist shrinking smaller along with her confidence that her skating partner would remain loyal to their partnership. Scott, the partner who had been skating with other girls, according to Meryl. _“Marina and Igor are trying out new partners for Scott. Y’know, in case the surgery isn’t a success and you can’t come back.”__ _

__Meryl had been so nonchalant in her phone call that it made Tessa sick to her stomach. She’d eaten a solitary apple that day, unable to keep anything else down. It wasn’t until the threat of skating with Scott was almost pulled from her fingertips that she realised just how much she wanted to grasp onto it with all her might, kicking and screaming._ _

__She slows her chewing down as she feels the taste of acid rise to the back of her throat. She pushes her table forward and dashes to the toilets at the front of the cabin, a ritual that is somewhat-ashamedly becoming increasingly common. She spits the bile from her mouth into the bowl in front of her and chills run down her spine, sending her body into a violent shiver. She wipes her mouth with a piece of tissue from the box on the side and notices that her face is wet with tears._ _

__She flushes the toilet and sits down on the seat, burying her face in her hands. The heels of her hands dampen as the flow of tears refuses to relent, her breath hitching in her throat as she fights to remain in control of her emotions, the one thing in her life Tessa feels she’s able to maintain a semblance of order over._ _

__The tears only begin to recede when Tessa hears a light tapping on the bathroom door._ _

__“T? You okay?”_ _

__She jumps up from the seat and wipes her cheeks with the shirt of her cardigan._ _

__“Yeah, I’m fine. Be out in a sec.” She knows that her voice has betrayed her, the unmistakeable wobble evident in every syllable._ _

__She glances up in the mirror and smoothens her hair down. She wipes under her eyes once again and smiles._ _

__He’s standing there when she opens the door and reaches out for her hand immediately. She offers hers in return, an act so normal, and he yanks her in for a hug as soon as his grip is wrapped around her wrist._ _

__He muscles his arms around her shoulders and pulls her in so tight that it would be painful if it wasn’t exactly what Tessa needed at that moment. She curls her arms upwards, digging her fingertips into his t-shirt and meeting resistance against the muscles that are responsible for catching her every time they step onto the ice. She buries her face against his chest and he does the same in the crook of the neck._ _

__They hold each other, at the front of the first class cabin of an Air Canada flight to Vancouver, but they’re oblivious to the world around them._ _

__It is only when a flight attendant coughs near them in an effort to manoeuvre past that Tessa and Scott are brought back to their reality._ _

__Scott loosens his grip around Tessa slowly and picks her hand up from where it has fallen from his shoulder. They walk back to their seats, hand-in-hand, and a voice catches their attention._ _

__“Excuse me, Sir, Miss. You’re both just so sweet. You remind me of my wife and me when we were honeymooning. I hope you have a long and happy marriage.” The elderly man sitting diagonally from Scott’s seat gestures gently towards their clasped hands, and it doesn’t escape Tessa’s attention that she’s wearing her grandmother’s ring on her left ring finger._ _

__“Thank you, Sir. That’s very kind of you to say.” Scott squeezes Tessa’s hand reassuringly, anchoring her to him at that moment._ _

__“We appreciate it.” Tessa chimes in, genuinely grateful for the meaning behind his incorrect assumption. Their partnership had been so long, and so far, fruitful, that their closest friends and family members referred to them as an old married couple._ _

__They nod and smile at the old man in perfect unison and before Tessa can loosen her grip to go back to her own seat, Scott tugs her towards his own._ _

__“Stay with me?” He places a kiss on her forehead as he sits down on the extended seat which now forms a bed. Scott lies down on the bed against the far side of the wall and pulls Tessa down to lie next to him._ _

__“Always.” She murmurs, barely audible, as she gently folds herself over Scott’s warm body, tucking his arm underneath her. She nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck and he moves his head down to rest atop of hers._ _

__“Always.” Scott repeats back. “Always, Tess.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's late and i haven't proof-read so apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes. i'll go through and clean up in the morning :)
> 
> find me on tumblr: m-maroney


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